


Wendy's Challenge

by orphan_account



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/M, Food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6718876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wendy’s prompt was Rachel/Cutter in an elevator, fade to black ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wendy's Challenge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badskeletonpuns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/gifts).



—

Rachel opened her eyes to the familiar screech of her phone’s alarm clock. Before she could roll over to turn it off, her gaze was arrested by the sight of an all-too-familiar peach coloured stucco ceiling above her. She considered her situation as the alarm blared. Soft sheets, Egyptian cotton with a high thread count. A faint floral scent – fresh flowers in the room. Sore muscles, warm afterglow. She’d spent the night in Mr Cutter’s bed. Again.

This had to stop happening.

With a sigh, she finally turned off the noise. She could hear the sounds of the city now, cars rushing along, still audible though Mr Cutter’s condo was on the top floor of the building. There was no way out through the window, unless she wanted to fulfil Mr Cutter’s boxing day threat. She was going to have to walk by the kitchen. He would have breakfast ready for her. Again.

Why. Why must he be like this. He’d have chocolate croissants. He always did.

Resigned to the inevitable, Rachel put back on her clothes from the night before. The top three buttons were missing from her blouse. Someone had been in a hurry. She’d have to go home and change before work. Or she could start leaving clothes at Mr Cutter’s place? He had suggested it, last time, with a smirk that had ended in her on top of him on the kitchen island.

No. The day that seemed like a good idea, Rachel would quit Goddard Futuristics and go live in the woods with only forest creatures to see her shame.

Mr Cutter was, inevitably, waiting in the kitchen, wearing his usual black suit. A blue checkered tie, today. He smiled at her. “Good morning Rachel! I hope you slept well. Would you like a croissant?” He gestured to a plate next to him on the island. Too close. She’d have to brush past him or lean obscenely forward to get it. She glared at him wordlessly and choose the first option. “You remember how to work the cappuccino maker. I’m sure!”

Someday, she would find a way to shut his smug mouth other than kissing him. Maybe today would be that day. After coffee.

When they broke apart, he looked just as self-satisfied as ever. “Did you read the report I filed on the old crews, Sir?” Time to move to safe topics. At least, topics that were safer than breakfast. She focused her attention on the coffeemaker, pointedly ignoring Mr Cutter’s grin. He was looking at her blouse, damn him. “We should have paid more attention to Dmitri’s character reports during those missions. There’s a lot more there than Saul noticed, even if it is filtered through Dmitri’s misanthropy.” It was a pity to throw Saul under the bus. Unavoidable. He shouldn’t have been careless.

“Make one for me, Rachel.” His hand cupped hers, pulling the mug from her grasp. She relinquished the coffee and set about making another one with wry smile. Every time.

“So what did you think of the report?”

“Oh, that thing! I’ve talked to Saul about it.” She felt a sudden chill, footsteps walking across her grave. No. Not her grave. She wasn’t careless. “In hindsight, we should have insisted that Alexander continue sending his reports after Christmas. But then we would have had to admit we knew he was alive and that would have been nothing but a world of trouble.” He took a sip and looked at her approvingly. “Very good, Rachel!” Another sip. “I think we can rely on Warren to provide a – less biased view on the state of the crew than Alexander could offer.”

Rachel started drinking her own coffee, taking the cup from her lips only to kiss him again. Why not, at this point? His arms twined around her waist as she downed the rest of the mug, letting the heat of it burn her tongue. “Sir. We’re going to be late for work.”

“So we are, Rachel!” he said with his usual cheer. “Go to the lobby and call the elevator. I’ll get myself together and meet you there.” His eyes were laughing – at her, at some private joke, or just with delight that, as always, the universe was unfolding exactly as he willed it. She kissed his cheek, a hand straying down his back until it reached his ass, then let him go.

“See you there.”


End file.
